Lucid Dreams Poem by Albert Ahearn

It's 2 a.m. and for the life of me
I can’t sleep. Perhaps too many iced green
Teas. It doesn’t bother me you see
Not getting rest I mean, it’s the caffeine
That keeps me awake and I miss dreaming
Dreams that I turn into reality.
Those pleasant visions become the real thing:
A contrived visual modality.

Awake I’m between
A paradoxical dream
And veracity

In this state I know who I really am
Because I am the creator of them.
A fluid existence into this realm
Where all I dream is at my command.

The rules of conduct
Are for myself to decide
I’m the one in charge

I nightly assay my thoughts and beliefs
with elaborated dream-scape motifs.